Enhancement

- - 37 - -

"Excellent," Tanner says, "but we've got to get moving. Operation Catalyst begins now. Let's go, guys."

The room's automatic doors slide open, and we stride through the gap. Stephen rises from his waiting room seat when he sees us, and I can tell he's dying to know what's going on. Tanner waves for him to follow, and we exit the hospital wing.

Tanner hurries us through the white hallways outside the hospital, instructing us to keep close. A steady pace turns into a jog through the halls.

"Holland, did you agree?" Stephen asks with a small pant. We round a corner, turning to face an endless view of white walls.

"I did," I exhale. "I want to help. I hate the Screeners just as much as everyone else does."

Stephen pauses. "Yeah, you're right," he says. "Things are happening so quickly, it's kind of hard for me to decide what I want to do."

"Then I'll decide for you," I half-grin at him, trying to keep my own fear under control. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Tanner and Peyton climbing a white ladder at the end of the hallway. "Let's rescue numbers 1 to 398."

With another nervous, reassuring smile, I wrap my hands around a rung of the ladder and climb after Peyton. The ladder stretches high above the ground, extending to the white ceiling. I pull myself up each rung, watching Tanner and Peyton tap a holographic control on the ceiling. A trap door zips open, and a rush of voices floods my ears. Peyton disappears through the opening, climbing onto the pale platform above us.

I reach the top of the ladder and grab onto handles on the walls to boost me onto the raised level. Looking across the platform, there's a stunning view of the atrium. I step away from the ladder and walk to the railing overlooking the wide room. Stephen climbs up next to me, subconsciously setting his arm around my waist.

Sitting in tight, symmetrical rows on the atrium floor are the Campers. Every one of them is barefoot in their sweatpants-and-v-neck outfits. The only people standing wear smocks, and they're scattered throughout the room. Metal briefcases full of jars sit next to them.

I watch a man dip a brush into a container of yellow powder. He glazes his brush under the eyes of a citizen, making her skin appear unhealthy. The sight confuses me.

My eyes jump around the room, scanning every battered body. One person has thin-looking cheeks, another has a slash across his face. His friend next to him has a bruised eye. Another person's arms look terribly thin. My eyebrows furrow. The Campers all look incredibly relaxed, even happy, when they should look devastated. The atrium continues to buzz as people joke and chat in their assigned seats on the floor.

Located near every injured-looking person is a metal case and a smock-clad person. I soon spot the woman who helped me during my videotaping session. I watch her pull out a small jar from her case, the same jar of make-up she used on me.

"Those people," I say out loud, "they're not actually injured. Look, Stephen, they're putting make-up on them."

I turn away from the scene. Tanner and Peyton stand to the side of the platform, watching us. Somehow Tanner knows I've solved half the mystery.

"It's all a part of the plan," he explains, stepping near Stephen and I. "We make our Campers look battered, and we send them to their cells. When the government comes for inspections, they see our injured inmates. It fits the protocol, and we pass our inspection. Easy as that."

The last syllable of Tanner's sentence echoes over the atrium. Then Commander Liad's voice bursts from the speakers. "Citizens of Pod 14, I present to you the catalysts of our rebellion: Holland Renner and Stephen Moore!"

The Campers clap and whoop in response. All eyes are on us, bruised and scarred, and the makeup stifles their power in numbers. Happiness and injury are not a realistic combination.

"Operation Catalyst will be our biggest success, but we all must work together. After the make-up teams finish, we need the premises cleaned and Screeners ready. In approximately three hours, all Campers will be locked into their cells.

"It is imperative that all inmates act fatigued and injured until you receive your cue to come to the atrium. Then everyone will watch Stephen and Holland complete their task on the screens. In the meantime, our catalysts will prepare for their mission. Campers, you are now prepared and ready to strike!"

"Rebellion for the sake of freedom!" the crowd suddenly yells, throwing fists in the air. The passion in their voices sends chills up my arms. I smile involuntarily.

"We will win this fight!" Liad shouts.

"Rebellion for the sake of freedom!" they repeat. The corners of my mouth begin to rise. Every desperate body yearns for victory, including my own. My blood flows a little quicker, a little hotter. I want to win, too.

"We will all benefit and reconstruct our lives!"

"Rebellion! For the sake! Of freedom!" the crowd surges. "Rebellion! For the sake! Of freedom! Rebellion! For the sake! Of freedom!"

Each time the word "freedom" yells out, they pump their fists in the air, enhancing the weight of the word. Their mood is contagious and thrilling.

"Rebellion for the sake of freedom," I say, my words blasting over the chants. "And power for the powerless."

Cheering and clapping echo at me with full volume. I look down at my own fists stained with black boxes of ink. I thrust my hand into the air, taking my pledge to join then, to stop the Project and the screenings.

The Campers go wild, screaming even louder in approval. A flicker of movement in the corner of my eye signals Stephen's arm rising next to mine. Hysterics break out over the atrium.

"Thank you, Holland and Stephen," Liad says over the crowd, "for committing yourselves to being the catalysts of our ideology."

The crowd cheers once more. Stephen's arm is still around my waist, and the heat of the crowd empowers my emotions. I feel overwhelming compassion for every person in the room, from Tanner and Peyton to the strangers in the crowd.

Without thinking, I pull Stephen into a full, tight embrace in plain view of the crowd. Like always, his arms tighten around my lower back, warm and secure. It's my way of letting him know we should have never be forced to endure pain the way we did. The crowd cheers even more.

I rest my chin on his shoulder. "In case I don't get the chance to say it," I tell him. "I really care about you, Stephen. Just know I can't say thank you enough for being there when I needed someone the most."

"I needed you, too, Holland," he says over the loud cheering, pulling out of the embrace. Sweet, dark eyes and skin pull into a soft grin. "This isn't the end yet. When all this calms down, I really want to just sit down and talk."

"About what?"

"Anything," he says.

I nod. "And get back to normal somehow."

I don't want to admit to myself or him that this might be our last embrace, so we hold each other until Peyton taps my arm, signaling our exit off the platform. I take one final look at the crowd before nodding at them, grabbing Stephen's hands, and hurrying us down the platform steps.

-- -- -- -- --

#hephen for the win! and did you like that war chant? it beats the pep rallies at my school lol.

Commander Liad made his appearance, but Olivette will be coming soon. i kinda mentioned holographs, but more will be coming as well.

Question: Choose a phrase: fake it to make it, sedation nation (injections), or practice makes perfect.

Follow-Up Question: What is your favorite part/aspect of this book? What is your least favorite?